Fireborn Read online

  “I’ve not exactly had a chance to wash up,” he muttered. “So is that what you wanted to talk about? Because if so, I’m going back to bed.”

  Bree shook her head.

  “Not here,” she said. “I don’t want anyone overhearing.”

  That “anyone” could only be Aunt Bethy, and Kael nodded.

  “All right,” he said. “Where to?”

  He followed her out the door, then south down the road, passing home after home. At last they curled slightly to the west, and as they reached the end of the road and the stone barricade beyond, Kael realized where they were going.

  “Bree,” he said, unsure of what else to say.

  “Not yet.”

  Together they climbed over the barricade, and as they crossed the soft grass leading toward Weshern’s edge, Kael felt eleven years old again, hoping to catch a glimpse of a star before the battle began. Before the confrontation that took the lives of both their parents. Fearless as she’d always been, Bree walked straight to the edge and then sat, legs dangling. Kael joined her, and he was surprised by his own nonchalant attitude. There was a time when peering over the edge and seeing the gently rolling clouds unnerved him greatly. Now he barely noticed them at all. Side by side they sat, the wind teasing their short hair.

  “Well, we’re here,” Kael said after a long moment of silence, his sister staring to the distant clouds instead of talking with him. “So what’s this all about?”

  “Kael...” She hesitated. “Is what we’re doing right?”

  Kael frowned, unsure of what his sister was getting at.

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “Fighting against Center?”

  She nodded.

  “So what if they want to rule us?” she asked. “Does it really matter if we swap the Archon for the Speaker? If we’d never become Seraphim and instead spent our lives in the fields, would we have even noticed?”

  Kael picked at the grass that grew all the way to the very last scrap of soil hovering suspended in the air above the Endless Ocean.

  “Would we have noticed?” he asked. “Maybe not. But we’d have noticed if another ghost plague happened, hundreds of those we knew and loved taken, never to be returned. And for what? Torture? Experimentation? Execution? We don’t even know, and we’d never know, because that’s the power they hold over us.” He tore another piece of grass, let it drift off the edge of the world. “And what if Johan’s right about Galen? What if Marius and his theotechs killed them all, just to solidify power over the rest of us?”

  Bree pulled her knees up to her chest, and she wrapped her arms about them as she huddled there, gently rocking. It almost looked like she wanted to fall over every time she tilted toward the edge.

  “If he’s right, then Marius and all who serve him aren’t even human,” she said. “They’re monsters.”

  That awful series of moments, of the island crashing, the thousands upon thousands dying, came unbidden to his mind. Kael wiped at his eyes, forcing the memory away. He couldn’t comprehend how one could willingly create such a tragedy. He didn’t want to.

  “Why are we out here?” he asked softly. He knew his sister carefully circled the edges of the true matter she wished to discuss. “Why are we really?”

  Bree sat so still she might have been a statue, eyes locked on a distant cloud.

  “Argus wants me to fly as the Phoenix,” she blurted out, then immediately fell silent. The words struck Kael like a punch to the gut, but he carefully kept his reaction neutral. It didn’t take much thought to figure out what bothered his sister so.

  “You’re worried about me and Aunt Bethy once you make yourself known.”

  “If I do this, I’m sentencing you both to death,” Bree said, voice muffled by her own knees. “You live only if we win. And I don’t know if we can win, Kael. I fought one of their knights, and he treated me like an amusement. I couldn’t handle a single knight one-on-one, yet I’m supposed to be Weshern’s hero? I’m supposed to be everyone’s hope? It’s a sick joke, that’s all. A sick, stupid joke.”

  She slumped even further, forehead pressing against her knees as she drew into herself, hiding from all the world.

  “I do this, I’m murdering you both, all for nothing.”

  Kael hated seeing his sister so distraught, and her broken words ignited a fire in his own belly.

  “You’re not the murderer,” he said. “The murderer is the one who sent Galen crashing to the ocean. My life is my own, and if I have to spend it in hiding, then so be it. We already agreed we were in this together, all the way to the end. If I die in the skies, or in a prison, it doesn’t matter. I’m dying for what I believe, and what I believe is that we must fight for our freedom, no matter how hopeless it seems. In a single day, the world can change. We’ve seen it before, and I pray we see it again, only this time for the better.”

  He reached out to take her hand, forcing her to emerge from within her shell.

  “I’ve seen you fly through the chaos of battle,” he said. “When your swords are aflame, and you’re dancing through the skies, I truly believe nothing in the world can stop you. Don’t you dare let your fear for my safety stop you here on the ground.”

  Bree squeezed his fingers, and she leaned against him, forehead on his shoulder.

  “You’re a good brother,” she said. “I hope you know that.”

  “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

  The last of the midnight fire burned away, rippling into black mist that thinned as the sun rose in the east. The red hue swapped for blue, and Kael’s insides relaxed. A beautiful sight, clouds spread out before them like a painting they could fall into, while high above, the clear blue of the sky grew stronger by the second. If he had his wings, he’d have soared into the tuffs of white, let the wind and speed strip away his worries. It had taken time, but a year in the academy had ignited in him the same love of flight his sister always possessed.

  “I’m returning to Camp Aquila,” Bree said, the quiet moment passed. “Argus needs to send people to collect those elements. Will you come with?”

  Kael thought for a moment, shook his head.

  “I promised Clara I’d visit her again today,” he said. “Johan’s speech shook her up more than she let on.”

  “His words linger, don’t they?” Bree said. “Like a worm that just keeps digging in deeper.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  She was right, though. The whole time he’d tried to fall asleep, Johan’s accusations had rang in his ears, his call to action, his prophecy of blood and war. But how could they not? With frightening calm, he’d accused the most powerful and supposedly holiest man alive of destroying Galen and attempting to conquer Weshern. And no matter how many times Kael ran them through his head, there wasn’t a single part he could easily dismiss. It made it very hard to believe that Argus’s rebellion, and their simple list of demands, had any chance of coming true.

  Kael scooted from the edge, then rose to his feet. His sister did likewise.

  “Will you tell Argus you’ll be his Phoenix?” he asked as he brushed bits of grass from his pants.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Bree said. “Let’s start with moving that heavy chest of elements sitting in our house first, then go on from there.” She winked at him. “Have fun at Clara’s.”

  Kael chuckled.

  “Surrounded by Center’s soldiers and the Willer house guards? I’m sure I’ll have loads of fun.”

  Bree scoffed at him.

  “Try harder,” she said. “Surely the Archon’s daughter can find an unused room or closet somewhere in that giant mansion.”

  Kael’s neck immediately flushed red, as reliable and predictable as if she’d pushed a switch.

  “You’re awful.”

  “I know.”

  She blew him a kiss, then hopped over the stone barricade. Kael followed, stopping in at their home while his sister continued on north. Finding his aunt already out for the fields, he washed his
face and hands with the water by the dormant fireplace, ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix the lopsided mess that it was, and then left. The walk to the holy mansion would be a long one, and he jammed his hands into his pockets and whistled to pass the time.

  With how early it was, he’d expected to see few people with him on the road. He was wrong. Before he could even leave Lowville he passed two squads of three, armored in heavy plate, tinted gold, their red cloaks and tabards billowing in the morning breeze. Some wielded swords, others spears, but always they carried an enormous shield on their left arm. The sight chilled Kael’s blood, and he did his best not to make eye contact as he walked by. He’d known the Speaker’s military presence would increase as time went on, and the rebellion made itself known, but it was still strange seeing Center’s soldiers marching through the streets of his home.

  The first squad ignored him, but a man leading the second called him over with a tone that brooked no argument. Telling himself to remain calm, he crossed the street and stood before the three, arms at his sides.

  “Empty your pockets,” the man, bushy-bearded and middle-aged, commanded.

  “I’m not sure what you think I have,” Kael said, doing as he was told. He carried only a handful of coins, and the soldier glanced it over before thrusting his own hands into Kael’s pockets. Another patted him from shoulder to ankle. Kael’s temper rose by the second, especially as they refused to say a word to him.

  “Enough already,” he said, stepping back once the pat-search was finished. “You’ve not even told me what you’re looking for.”

  “Do you possess any materials discussing the beliefs or opinions of Johan Lumens?” the bearded soldier asked.

  “No,” Kael said, and it wasn’t a lie.

  “Are you aware of anyone in possession of such materials, or someone with knowledge as to the location of Johan himself?”

  Do they know Johan visited last night? Is that why the soldiers are here?

  Kael used his annoyance and frustration to hide his nerves, and he stared the soldier in the eye, refusing to flinch in the slightest.

  “No, now let me pass.”

  He tried to push through their center, but the shields locked together, shoving him back.

  “You will accept commands, not give them,” another of the soldiers, a young woman, said. “Or should we see how brave you are when it’s my sword that’s pushing you back, not my shield?”

  True to her word, she drew the shining steel blade from her sheath. Kael cast his eyes to his feet, and he clenched his fists at his sides and told himself to remain calm.

  “Understood,” he said. “May I be dismissed?”

  The sheer act of asking made his stomach fill with bile. Foreign soldiers, yet they wielded more power than Weshern’s own. It wasn’t right.

  “Get out of here.”

  The bearded man pushed him with the butt of his spear, the wood shoving into the center of his chest. Kael toppled onto his rear, one arm out to brace against the fall. His hand scraped across the uneven stone of the road. Blood trickled from his palm as he glared up at the three. The woman met his gaze, waiting, eager for him to respond. Knowing it foolish to react, knowing he’d do nothing but get himself hurt worse, if not outright killed, he looked away, head lowered further. The look of the defeated.

  The three marched on. Kael returned to his feet, and once he was out of sight of the soldiers of Center, he ran.

  * * *

  Kael knew something was up the moment he saw the row of Center’s soldiers blocking the gate to the holy mansion. Just the day before, only two had been on guard, and now there were over a dozen? Fighting down a fresh wave of nerves, Kael strode up to their center and held his head up high.

  “My name is Kael Skyborn, friend of Clara Willer,” he said. “I was here yesterday, and was expected today as well. You may check with her if you must.”

  Kael wasn’t sure who was in charge, and he waited for one of the twelve to respond.

  “Doesn’t matter, expected or not,” the soldier said. “No one enters.”

  “Under whose orders?” Kael demanded.

  “Mine. Would you like to challenge me further, boy?”

  Kael swallowed down his retort.

  “No, sir,” he said. “Have a fine day.”

  He turned and left, glancing over his shoulder once he was about fifty feet away. Beyond the line of soldiers, he saw nothing out of the ordinary about the mansion. No windows were broken, and the personal guard of the Willers still patrolled the grounds. So why the sudden change?

  Kael cut left once he reached the main road, a smile growing on his face. The Speaker could put a thousand soldiers circling the entire holy mansion, and it still wouldn’t prevent him from seeing Clara now that he knew the secret entrance. Only one man might cause problems, but a single old guard was a lot better than a thousand.

  Locating the home was easy enough. Getting inside was another matter. Kael checked the front door, found it locked. He scrunched his face, thinking. The windows were shuttered, and Kael didn’t need to check to know they were also barred. The house was meant to be small, unremarkable, and difficult to enter. Taking in a deep breath, Kael gambled and knocked on the door.

  “Galvin?” he asked. When he received no answer, he banged much harder, raising his voice as he asked, “Galvin, are you home?”

  Metal rattled within, and then the door swung open. Galvin stood blocking the way, a frown on his face and his sword held firmly in his left hand.

  “You trying to wake the whole neighborhood?” the guard asked.

  “Only until you opened the door,” Kael said. He’d hoped the possible attention of a noisy visitor would force the guard to open the door, and he’d guessed correctly. “Is it all right if I, uh, come inside?”

  Galvin looked ready to spit.

  “Is Clara with you?”

  “I was actually hoping to visit with her.”

  Something about the gray of Galvin’s mustache made his frown all the meaner.

  “I’m not here to help with clandestine trysts. I’ll look aside for Clara’s sake, but you don’t mean much to me. I suggest you not coming here again.”

  The guard stepped aside, and Kael entered the house.

  “I really am sorry,” he said as he headed to the fireplace. “Next time, I’ll make sure Clara’s waiting here for me. Will that be better?”

  Galvin snorted but did not answer. Good enough for Kael. Steeling himself for the crawl ahead, he dropped to his knees and entered the fireplace, and the tunnel within.

  Traveling in the darkness alone should have been worse, but Kael had already made the trip once, and that familiarity helped keep him calm as he pressed ahead. Far more nerve-racking was his debate as to how he’d reach Clara before being spotted. If any guards discovered him before he found Clara he’d be in a tight spot. Perhaps they’d believe his lie that he’d been allowed inside. Perhaps they’d also believe he could sprout wings from his back and fly. It had roughly the same odds.

  A thin line of gray marked a crease where the hidden door met the wall. It wasn’t much, but compared to the pitch black of the tunnel, it was something. Kael approached, feeling the tunnel widening around him, and then with a satisfied grunt he stood to his full height and stretched his back. He was in the tiny room between the door and the tunnel, and now there, he realized he’d given no thought as how to get inside.

  I’m not going back to Galvin to admit I couldn’t figure out how to open the damn door, Kael swore as he steadily brushed his fingers along the wall, searching for a button or lever. To his relief he found it immediately, a groove along the edge that his hand easily slid into. The wall started to move, and Kael hesitated. There was no way for him to check the other side before exiting. What if someone saw him? He put his ear to the wall, listening for the sounds of voices or footsteps. He heard nothing, but with the wall dampening any potential noises, that was no guarantee.

  Decidin
g to hell with it, he opened the hidden passage all the way, stepped out, and then slid it shut. So far, so lucky. No one there. If he made straight for Clara’s room, he should be fine. So long as she was fine, of course. Thankfully the mansion felt too quiet for any sort of disaster to have unfolded. Nothing in the hallway looked smashed or disturbed. The increase in soldiers barricading the front must be a precautionary measure.

  Just keep quiet and calm, Kael told himself as he walked the carpet. You were here yesterday. The servants and soldiers inside might not even give you a second thought.

  Kael hurried down the hall, ears on alert for guards or soldiers. Every door he passed was closed, all but one, which Kael slid to a stop beside. Voices from within. He leaned closer, frowning. He recognized both speakers. One was the older brother, Lance, but the other...it was familiar, painfully so, yet he could not place a name to it. Whatever conversation they were having was heated, and Kael slipped closer to the door, ear pressed against it.

  “...riots will stop in time,” Lance said. “But you cannot expect results overnight.”

  “You act as if you or I have time to wait,” said the other voice. Again Kael felt he should know who it was. That pleasant, yet authoritative tone. He’d heard it once before, just once, but where?

  Kael no longer could help himself. Leaning closer, he peered around the half-open door and into the room. It looked to be a library of sorts, the walls covered with shelves filled with leather-bound tomes, their titles etched along the spines in gold and silver. Standing on one side of the room was Lance, looking flustered and angry. On the other side...

  On the other side stood Marius Prakt, Speaker for the Angels.

  “The people of New Galen must acclimate themselves to the Weshern way of life,” Lance said. “Once they do, all this will settle down.”

  “Last night’s riot was the worst of the lot,” Marius said, and he shook his head as he crossed his arms. “It seems the people of New Galen would rather burn down homes than acclimate themselves. Such actions make me wonder if the measures you’re taking are failing to improve the situation.”